[Sig – 13 years] → begins towards the end of Chapter 91 and takes place through most of Chapter 92.

  When I head upstairs, I find Aunt Rachel and Mr. Fuller on the couch. Aunt Rachel texted for me to come up here but she's hanging out with Mr. Fuller right now? I'm pretty sure they'd prefer alone time over having me hang out with them.

  Which means they want something else.

  He wasn't here when we had lunch half an hour ago so he definitely only just got here. There's no way she's asking me if I want to join them for lunch, either, since we did just eat.

  "Yes?" I ask.

  "Don't look so suspicious," Aunt Rachel chuckles. "I went down there after my shower yesterday to see if you wanted any snacks before my nap. Heard you mention to your friends that you wished you could go hunting."

  She waited until her not-boyfriend was over to bring it up because she's weird. We could've talked about it yesterday or last night and gotten it over with.

  Also, why did she check to see if I wanted snacks before her nap? I've been getting snacks on my own just fine for years so it's not necessary.

  "Yeah, yeah, I know," I roll my eyes. "You think it's dangerous. And I did say I don't have a way to, anyway. No guns, bows, or place to go hunting. And I think I need a license for it, too."

  "Varies from state to state," Mr. Fuller says. "In this one, you won't need one of your own until you're fifteen if you're with someone who has the right license. Even if you do need one of your own, the course doesn't take very long. It does cost money to take and test, though, and if you fail the test, you can retake it up to twice within thirty days. Fail three times, and you can't attempt again for three months."

  "Derrick and Hunter go hunting," Aunt Rachel informs me. "I've asked him about it before, and again before I laid down last night."

  Please mean what I think you mean!

  "Archery season for antelope begins next week," Mr. Fuller tells me. "Hunter and I were planning on going out next weekend for it."

  "I don't know how to use a bow," I tell him.

  "I know," he says. "Your aunt asked if I'd be up for teaching you. Some people learn faster than others, and you seem to be a pretty talented boy. If you're good enough by next weekend, we can take you with us. Rifle season for several things begins next month; Rachel's agreed to let me teach you how to use one and proper gun safety."

  "As long as you prove responsible," Aunt Rachel tells me before I can respond. "If you misbehave with it, you're getting your privileges revoked permanently. And you need to behave outside of it as well. Understand?"

  "Yeah!" I rush over to the couch and give her a hug. "Thank you, Aunt Rachel!"

  Even if I end up not enjoying it or never wanting to do it again, I do want to give it a try. Not for trophies or anything like that, but because I want to try and hunt some meat.

  "Derrick offered to take you today," Aunt Rachel tells me. "And a few days throughout the week, once he gets off of work."

  This is extremely short notice for something they were only just discussing.

  "Like, right now?" I ask.

  "Right now," she answers.

  "Thanks!" I squeeze her tighter, then let go. "Lemme go get changed! Wait! Do I need to wear certain clothes?"

  "Not for practice," Mr. Fuller tells me. "Outside of sneakers, but you don't seem the sandals or slides type of kid."

  "Only have sneakers," I tell him. "I'll be right back!"

  I hurry back to my room and pull on a sleeveless and my socks and shoes, grab my wallet, phone, and keys, and hurry back upstairs.

  "Behave for Derrick," Aunt Rachel tells me as Mr. Fuller stands. "You hear me?"

  "Loud and clear!" I salute.

  "See you when you get back," she says.

  "Bye!" I wave to her, then Mr. Fuller and I leave and get into his car. "So where are we going for the lessons? There a range or something around here?"

  I'm sure there is since there are plenty of hunters in the area.

  "There is," he tells me. "But I've got a friend who lives outside of the towns with a good-sized property. He lets me use it. It's where I taught Hunter."

  "Oh, cool," I say. "So it's big enough to do that without issue? We're not going to accidentally shoot someone there, are we?"

  "There's always a chance of issue," he says. "But yes, the chance of accidentally shooting someone there is pretty low due to the property size and how clear of a view you've got."

  "That's cool," I say. "How do you know him?"

  "We grew up together," he answers. "He lives just outside of Lakeview, but attended school in it."

  "And that's where you grew up?"

  "It is," he says. "It's where Hunter and I live, too. We were mostly going to move to Dragon Falls because the house was better," he gives me a grin. "But you and your aunt got to it first."

  "Speaking of Aunt Rachel," I grin at him. "Are you two officially together, or just secretly?"

  "Who says we're together?" He snorts.

  "Oh, please," I roll my eyes. "You two were literally sitting right beside each other. Pretty close for two adults who aren't dating. I bet you had your arm across her shoulder until I came upstairs. And it's obvious to, like, everyone that you two like each other. So?"

  "We're dating," he says. "But taking it slowly. Just dates and hanging out for now, until we get to know each other better."

  "Good," I say. "I dun want any cousins unless things are that serious."

  "Don't worry," he reaches over and ruffles my hair. "There's no chance of that."

  Then he pushes my head a little.

  "Hey!" I protest, causing him to laugh, and I join in for a moment.

  "What about you?" He asks. "You're thirteen and a half and are entering eighth grade. I know it's not uncommon for dating to occur, even if secretly. You dating any guys?"

  "I'm straight," I quickly say.

  "Uh-huh," he says with a disbelieving tone. "And I'm the emperor of the moon."

  "I'm not into guys," I tell him. "I can't be, I'm the firstborn son. That means that when I'm old like you and Aunt Rachel, I have to continue the family legacy. And then my parents-"

  "Gonna stop you right there, S.G.," he says. "Firstborn doesn't matter. And if you try to deny what you are because of your parents – the same ones who admitted don't care about you at all – then you'll only hurt yourself. Don't try to force yourself into being something you aren't, S.G. Especially not when it comes to something like this. That's a lesson I learned the hard way and trust me, you'll regret it when you're older. I did."

  "But I'm not forcing myself-"

  "You are," he says. "I've been over enough this past month to hear your friends teasing you about Xander liking you after he leaves. And I've seen the way you shut it down. You've got a look of hope on your face when you do. The whole reason your friends even tease you about it is because they realized you like him. Like I said, it's pretty obvious. And if I'm not mistaken, you've got a little bit of a crush on Connor, too."

  "But if I-" I start, then deflate when I see his expression.

  He's not going to let me deny it.

  "And S.G.?" He says. "Some boys and girls your age may be attracted to one thing, but find out later on that they aren't. There's nothing wrong with discovering you're wrong about something like this. Just don't deny it in the now. I'm not saying you have to date, what I'm saying is to not deny yourself who you are. It'll be easier to be happy in the now and in the future, you'll have an easier time and fewer regrets."

  We're both quiet for a few moments after that. I really want to insist on it, but he's made it clear he won't let me. But being attracted to boys means my parents will never want me because I'll never give them grandkids when I'm older.

  "Mr. Fuller?" I say after a few minutes.

  "Yes?"

  "You said you learned it the hard way?" I ask. "Does that mean you tried making yourself gay?"

  "No!" He laughs. "I'm bisexual with a high lean towards women, but I was in denial of the side of me attracted to guys until I was in college. By that point, there were a few missed opportunities. It's something I regret. Adolescence is where you start figuring out who you are and I spent most of it denying a part of myself. And then there's the relationships aspect. What if I'd passed up an opportunity to meet someone I'd stay with for life because of it? I got asked out by a guy my sophomore year of college and turned him down. But once I accepted myself, I realized that I had really liked him. It also made me wish I'd given it a try. There are some strong regrets over it."

  "But you wouldn't have Hunter."

  "I wouldn't," he nods. "And I don't regret Hunter. I love him to death, even when he gets up to mischief. But that doesn't change regrets. Accepting myself made me realize how much stress I went through just by denying myself who I am. That it'd even made me depressed.

  "And like I said," he continues. "You don't need to date now, S.G., just don't try to force yourself into something you aren't. I think your aunt's told you that before, but in another context."

  "With… sports," I say. "It's time for tryouts for the soccer team and I asked her about it after dinner last night and she told me I wasn't allowed to join because I'm not competitive. I was only asking 'cause maybe if I did really good at sports, my parents would like me."

  It's not the first time we've had that discussion, either. We had it back when I realized that my parents didn't love me as well. All I need to do is be something my parents can be proud of, and then they'll love me.

  Mr. Fuller doesn't say anything after that, letting me just think about things. I need to give him plenty of reasons why he's wrong. Enough that he can't try and make me agree with him.

  "Xander's a bit weird," I say. "Like, I get he can't help it and stuff, but still. When he's grabbing fruit from a tray, or cookies, or something, he grabs them in specific amounts. It makes him take longer to get snacks so if I'm getting the same stuff and am after him, I have to wait longer. And we've really learned that we can't do some stuff with him. Like, we can't even move his drink or he stops drinking it, then he gets stressed over that. And we can't just tackle him like we do with each other. That really freaks him out. And he doesn't understand a lot of stuff. A lot of really simple stuff that, like, everyone knows. Having to avoid asking if we can have some of his snacks is frustrating, too, since we're always asking each other if we can have some if they've got a snack out. And he doesn't like playing as much as I do, and even tries to help the adults with setting things up when we're all playing instead of joining us."

  There. All good reasons why I can't be attracted to him. Some of those things do bother me, too. It gets really uncomfortable when he freaks out and the mood gets ruined.

  "And your excuses for Connor?" Mr. Fuller asks.

  "Uh… um…. he, um… he's… um… he uh… uh… um…"

  Mr. Fuller laughs and I feel my face heat up and I quickly look out the window. I really can't find something to be annoyed with Connor about to use as proof that I can't be crushing on him. Mr. Fuller definitely knew what I was doing and knew he'd trap me with that.

  "So those things about Xander makes you dislike him, huh?" He asks. "I take it that means you don't actually want to be friends with him?"

  "What?" I snap my head to look at him. "No! Of course not! He's amazing and they're all just minor annoyances! I don't really understand it all, but he's still a cool dude! I love hanging out with him! We've just gotta wait for him to be comfortable joining us, is all! He's even dunked me in the water recently, which is really awesome since he hates physical contact! I mean, Sam did bribe him into it, but still. And yeah, I know he can be frustrating at times, but he can't help it. He's really a cool guy, Mr. Fuller! So I definitely wanna be friends with him!"

  "And date him?"

  "Yeah!" I answer before realizing it. "Wait! I mean no!"

  He glances over with a raised eyebrow before turning his attention back to the road. I really got caught there and there's no way he'll let me back down on it. This is really unfair… but also right.

  The amount of times I wish I can give Xander a hug when he's stressed is too high. Same with wanting to sit beside him when eating. I just like being around him in general, and not in the same way as with Sam or Isaac or others. It just… makes me happy.

  "Um… maybe… and maybe… maybe Connor, too. But not at the same time. I don't wanna date two people."

  That seems like it'd be a lot of effort.

  "I'd recommend against it," he chuckles. "And as I've said a couple of times already, you don't have to date, S.G. It's okay to crush on someone without acting on it. Only start if you really feel ready for it. Just don't deny yourself who you are. You'll end up happier for it."

  "Okay."

  "Another thing," he says. "How much do those things you listed about Xander actually bother you?"

  "Mostly the stuff about playing," I admit. "Or when he freaks out. It's like… I dunno what to do. I want to give him a hug but know that'd only make him freak out more. And I get that we should let him join in at his own pace, but it's hard to remember that we can't just, like, tackle and wrestle him like we can others. At least, when we're in the middle of it. And the snacks thing, too. It's so weird not being able to ask a friend if he wants to share."

  Despite that, we understand that it has an effect on him and why. The dads were very clear to us on it and have reminded us of it a few times. Anytime they notice we seemed to be forgetting, we got reminded.

  It's a little frustrating, but we're all okay with having to try and remember this stuff and accept that we might upset him by accident. Once he calms down, he'll rejoin us on his own. That's why we're fine with hanging out with him. I know other kids might get too bothered and not want to hang out, but we aren't them.

  We're the real cool kids.

  "But other than that, he's cool?"

  "Yeah!" I nod. "Like, he's dumb about some stuff, but smart about a lot of things! And he's a little goofy in his own way. The best time to hang out with him is when we're all just chilling, or playing a board or card game. He loves those and can be pretty good when he stops being nervous and tries. We love hanging out with him for that stuff. And chatting with him when we're bowling's fun, even if he refuses to bowl with us. He's really good at baking, too. Have you seen his streams? The mega-bakes are just for those. He does so much smaller baking and he shares them with pretty much all of his friends. We kind of feel guilty accepting them because it's soooo much money is clearly spent on it with how much he makes, but he seems to get stressed if we don't so we think he actually likes sharing them."

  There's so much more than that, too. When we're out for a walk in the woods, he relaxes so much and it seems to be easier for him to enjoy things. The easiest times we've gotten him to go swimming with us has been when we were in the woods, too.

  Even if he's dumb about a lot of stuff, he knows quite a lot, too. Not just with magic, either. There's been more than a few times where he's known some random piece of trivia about something. It's kind of funny anytime he mentions something and thinks it's something we all already know it.

  "He's tried giving me some!" Mr. Fuller laughs for a moment, then returns to being serious. "We've got about thirty more minutes before we arrive. Your aunt wanted me to talk with you about something."

  "The dads already gave me 'the talk'," I tell him. "And I don't know you that well, so I'm just gonna ignore you if you try."

  "Not that," he says. "As I said, there's no need for you to date, so don't try to force yourself into it. This is especially true if you don't feel ready for it. Many aren't at your age. However, she wants to make sure you know the rules for dating. This way, you know them for whenever you're ready to whether it's now or in three years or more, whether it's with a guy or a girl. She told me she didn't feel comfortable discussing it with you and asked me to do it."

  "You-"

  "She asked me what my rules were for Hunter," he says. "And agreed they made sense and should be the ones you fit under. The reason she didn't feel comfortable with it is because she wants the reasons for them explained to you. You're not used to having rules and she felt that it's best if you know the reasons behind them. That way, you're more likely to accept them."

  "As if that'd make her uncomfortable," I snort. "What kind of rule would do that?"

  "A few, actually," he says. "Including regarding appropriate pictures to send, as well as no meeting with people you meet online."

  "I'll never take inappropriate pictures," I make a face. "That's just gross. And meeting people online?"

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  "Yes," he says. "You spend most of your time outside, but you chat with people online as well. Not all of them are real, nor are all of them who they say they are."

  "It's really hard to-"

  "S.G.," he says. "The rule aren't negotiable. You can ask your aunt about this if you're not sure and she'll confirm it. If you break any of them, the punishment will be very severe. Electronic privileges revoked, no hanging out with friends, extra chores, the works.

  "And the reason for that rule," he continues. "Is because it can happen. There are ways around the system, to someone clever enough. With you being used to being able to do whatever you want, the risk is actually higher for you. It'll be easy for someone to make you think they're a local kid your own age, then convince you to come meet them."

  "I've never done that."

  "Doesn't mean you might not," he says. "Even smart kids can be stupid at times, especially if they've been tricked. Do you know what happened to your aunt's first boyfriend?"

  "Aunt Rachel's dated?"

  "She did in high school," he tells me. "For about half a year with her first boyfriend, then they realized they didn't like each other that much and went back to being friends. Then he met this girl online when they were fifteen. Liked her a lot and went to meet her without telling his parents."

  "And got her pregnant?"

  "They found his body on the side of the road a month later."

  I'm no Xander, but I don't think Mr. Fuller would joke about something like that. If there's a connection between the two events, however, I'm not seeing it.

  "What does that have to do with meeting someone online?" I ask. "It was a month later. What, was she the daughter of some mob boss or something?"

  "The girl wasn't real," he tells me. "It was a trap to kidnap unsuspecting kids. He went to meet her, got drugged, stripped naked, and taken somewhere. The location was never found, but whoever it was, they used him for a month then discarded him like last week's trash. Probably sold his body for that month."

  "Used?" I ask. "Sold? What do you… oh."

  We're both quiet for a few moments after that. If he's being serious, then I can understand why Aunt Rachel would be uncomfortable talking to me about it. Especially if that was her first boyfriend and they were still friends after the breakup.

  "If you want to look up the case," he says. "His name was Vincent Miller."

  I pull out my phone and search up the name and the area. It's easy to find the case referenced and everything matches up with what he said. The article references several other kids across the nation who fell victim to this, too.

  That's scary.

  "How come she didn't ask one of the dads to talk with me about them?" I ask quietly.

  "Because they view you as another son of theirs," he answers. "And so would try to be gentle and make you comfortable. And their own rules would probably vary a little from mine, and mine are the ones she wants you to follow."

  "I guess that makes sense…"

  "Some of the rules are for your own safety," he tells me. "And some of them are to make sure you know what's appropriate for your age."

  "What's… appropriate?" I ask. "Isn't dating just, like, hanging out with whoever they are? And maybe holding hands or kissing?"

  "And it shouldn't be more than that," he says. "Not at your age. Some of the rules make sure you know when you're crossing the line – or if the other person is trying to get you to."

  The next half-hour is rather uncomfortable, but I kind of understand some of the rules. I don't doubt that Aunt Rachel will somehow know if I break them. And honestly, I can just ask myself "What would Xander do in this situation" to know if it's right or not.

  But I really don't want to date at all, so this is just for future knowledge, anyway.

  "How much longer?" I ask once the discussion ends.

  "We're almost there," Mr. Fuller answers. "The farm after this one."

  "He lives on a farm?"

  "Grew up on it, too," he answers. "His parents left it to him when they retired. It came from his mother's side, and they've run it for generations. The property itself is about four hundred acres, though half of that is woodland. He grows watermelons and pumpkins to sell, though he rotates them with other stuff. Not for sale, for maintaining soil quality. He's also got some fruit trees and berry bushes, and makes some good jams and fruit butters and preserves. For added income, he lets people pay to hunt in the wooded part of his land."

  I'm not sure how big an acre is, but two hundred doesn't sound all that large.

  "Is it big enough for that?"

  "His property's pretty square," he tells me. "The wooded part is more than four thousand feet long and two thousand feet deep. The land behind his property is wooded as well, public land rather than private. There's woodland to either side as well. As long as we go at least a hundred and fifty yards from the front end, we're fine."

  "Even to the sides?"

  "Long as we don't shoot stuff to the sides," he tells me. "Same with the back. Need the landowner's permission to hunt on their property. And there are regulations to ensure you can be seen when hunting, so we don't have to worry about someone accidentally shooting us. If they did, it was either them being careless or them being an ass. So if you see orange, don't point."

  "See orange, don't point," I say. "Got it. Uh… orange?"

  "There's a required amount of a certain orange that has to be clearly visible," he tells me. "It can vary from season to season. See that fence up there? That's a post-and-rail fence."

  The fence he's pointing at is on the left side of the road, past the cornfield we're passing by. Before the cornfield, it was something that I think was beans but which might be something else. On our right is what I'm fairly certain is a potato field. At least, it has a lot of rows of mounds.

  Of them all, only the one ahead on the left has fences. I find that a little bit weird since I'm sure it makes farm equipment more difficult to move on and off with ease, but maybe they don't need that if they're just growing pumpkins and watermelons.

  "Yeah," I nod. "That's what the Coxes and Martinses have for their ranches."

  "That's his farm," he tells me. "There are some monsters which like melons and gourds, so he has a fence to keep them out."

  "Does it work?" I ask. "It's got gaps, you know."

  "It works pretty well," he tells me. "His name's Jack, and he's being generous, letting us use his property for target practice. Make sure to be nice to him."

  He says that as if me being mean to someone is actually a concern.

  "I do my best to be nice to everyone!"

  As we near the road leading up to Jack's house, a small stand comes into view. It's between the fence and the driveway, and has some jars set out on it and a couple of boxes on a table behind it. There are also a few crates of watermelons sitting to either side and a pickup truck parked behind it, a few more crates sitting on it.

  Behind the stand is a man who looks to be about Mr. Fuller's age, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a deep tan. With him is a boy about my age with brown hair and blue eyes and who doesn't have a tan and has a small amount of chub to him rather than being lean. That's really unusual for out here.

  The kid looks both annoyed and mopey in addition to someone who prefers being inside all day. His outfit's even MountainStorm Gear, which isn't really suited to a farm as far as I'm aware.

  "He's got a kid?" I ask. "And… the kid's gotten away with not helping on the farm?"

  "That's his nephew," Mr. Fuller frowns. "He lives in the city. Jack didn't mention Brooks was going to be down here when we talked last week."

  "Hold up," I say. "You talked to him about taking me out here last week?"

  No wonder it was such short notice – it wasn't a quick decision at all. Aunt Rachel overhearing me yesterday must have only moved up how soon I was talked to about it.

  "Yeah," Mr. Fuller chuckles. "It was already planned to offer this to you today even before your aunt overheard your discussion. Just to see how you'd handle the lesson. Taking you antelope hunting next weekend wasn't in the plan – I was going to offer to take you deer and elk hunting with us next month."

  "Ah," I say. "Did you only offer for me and not my friends 'cause you want to date my aunt?"

  "No," he snorts. "I actually offered for all four of you – the others were asked by their dads today, but told not to mention it to the rest of you until tomorrow. That way, none of you were warned in advance of the offer. It would ruin the surprise. They all declined. If they'd accepted, then we'd have them in the backseat and our talk would've happened after we got back to your house."

  None of the others wanted to learn how to shoot a gun? That's… actually really surprising. I would've thought they'd all want to.

  Mr. Fuller stops the car on the driveway and we get out and approach the stand. Brooks looks really unhappy with us.

  "Hey, Jack," Mr. Fuller says. "This is S.G., the kid I was telling you about."

  "Hey, Derrick," Jack says, then looks at me. "Nice to meet you, S.G. How're you?"

  "Nervous," I answer. "I'm worried about messing up with the gun."

  "That's why Derrick's teaching you," he chuckles. "So you know what to do and can aim properly."

  "Yeah," I nod. "But still, I'm nervous. You've got a stand set up here? You're pretty far out of town, do you even get people buying over here?"

  "No," Brooks huffs. "No one comes. He just does it to be stupid."

  "Brooks, enough," Jack says a little firmly, but also a little gently, then looks at me. "I only open it up on Sunday afternoons, and we do. We've had six people buy stuff. Mostly, I sell things at the farmers' market in Lakeview on Saturdays. A little bit more expensive there, since I have to transport it all the way in and pay for the stall. But there are some who come out to get it from me directly for a little bit lower price. And I'll still sell stuff directly on other days, if someone's nice enough when they knock and I'm available and have what they're asking."

  "Oh, cool," I say. "Thanks for letting us practice here."

  "Been friends with Derrick over twenty years now," he smiles at me. "If he says you're a good kid, I'll trust that," he looks at Mr. Fuller. "You can head on back if you want, I've already got it set up."

  "Thanks," Mr. Fuller says, then jerks his head a little in Brooks's direction. "You didn't mention he'd be down today. Here for one last visit before school starts?"

  "As if I'd be here of my own will," Brooks huffs. "I don't want to be out in the sticks."

  "I didn't know when we last spoke," Jack tells him. "His parents were in a car accident the other day, the funeral was Friday. It was either with me or my parents, so he's staying with me now."

  "And I hate it!" Brooks huffs. "There's nothing to do here and he makes me slave away on the farm all day!"

  "It's not all day," Jack tells him. "And you haven't helped me out at all since you came down yesterday. I've done it all myself. You're getting a little bit of time before you need to help with the farm chores."

  "Really?" Brooks asks. "Then what's this?"

  He's really grumpy, but he did just lose his parents. If there's one thing he needs now, it's friends.

  "Not a farm chore," Jack tells him. "You're not even doing anything but standing with me. I'm doing all the work here."

  "What's your number?" I ask.

  "What?" Brooks looks at me.

  "Your number!" I say. "What is it? I wanna add you."

  "Why?"

  "Why not?" I ask. "I'm usually hanging out with my friends. Most of us are in Dragon Falls, but Isaac goes to Lakeview. If you have time to head into town or something this week, you can let me know and I can tell you if we're at the park or something, so you can meet. That way, you'll know someone when school starts next week."

  "Is he as dumb as you?"

  "Brooks!" Jack says sternly.

  "Actually, he's dumber!" I grin. "And if you get lucky and Xander's there and you make a good enough impression on him, you'll even get to taste his treats!"

  "His… what?"

  "Treats!" I repeat. "Xander does a lot of baking, and I mean a lot. He's our age, but he's pretty good at it. If you don't wanna swap numbers, that's cool! Lemme know when I leave if you change your mind!"

  Brooks just huffs, so I wave to Jack and walk back to the car with Mr. Fuller. A few minutes later, he's leading me past Jack's backyard and gardens to where a shooting range has been set up. Hay bales sit a few feet in front of a tall, wide dirt mound, and I think the mound is for stopping bullets. I can't think of another reason for that and it's clearly artificial.

  Some of the hay bales have targets on top of them. There's one that makes me think of archery targets, just a big square box-like one with rings in the center. Another has more hay bales on it, a paper target with rings fixed to it. A few others have what are probably empty soda and vegetable cans on them.

  Mr. Fuller leads me to a table set up a decent distance away from the targets. We're in front of them, so this is probably where I'll be shooting from.

  "We'll start with the gun," he tells me. "But there are some gun safety rules you need to go through first. The most important of them is to never point a gun near another person, even if it's unloaded."

  That last one doesn't make sense. If it's unloaded, then there's no chance of getting shot with it.

  "Even when unloaded?"

  "Always treat a gun as if it's loaded," he tells me. "Even if you've checked and made sure it's not. This ensures that if you missed a bullet, or it's loaded and you don't know, and the gun misfires, it's pointed away from people."

  Mr. Fuller walks me through a few other rules, then quizzes me on them before letting me handle the rifle. It's a little bit smaller than I expected, but it's just the right size for me. I'm not allowed to shoot it right away, though. He walks me through preparing the gun to fire and only once he's sure I'm ready does he let me.

  "Use the scope," he says. "But don't fully rely on it. Pointing your crosshairs at something doesn't ensure you'll hit that spot. You'll need to practice for accuracy."

  "Alright."

  It's a few more minutes of instructions and safety rules before Mr. Fuller lets me fire my first bullet. It's at the paper target stuck to some hay bales, and I manage to hit the upper-left corner of it. The kick surprises me, but I manage to not get unbalanced by it.

  I've always been well-balanced.

  With every shot I make, I get closer and closer to the center of the target. This is just like with pretty much everything else I try. It's really not that hard, and I manage to hit the center on my seventh shot. Mr. Fuller has me change spots after ten rounds, and again after the twentieth, then after the thirtieth. The goal is still to hit the center of the target, though.

  "Your aunt warned me that she'd been told you pick up skills pretty fast," Mr. Fuller says once I've shot forty bullets. "But that's just unbelievable."

  "I've always been this way," I grin at him.

  "You still need more sessions," he tells me. "Just to make sure you get the good habits down – and so I can see how well you follow the rules."

  "Okay," I say.

  He teaches me how to handle a gun once I finish shooting it, then begins the lesson on bow safety. Apparently, dry-firing a bow can cause it to break so I'm never to do that. If I pull the string back without an arrow nocked, I need to relax the string myself instead of just letting go.

  Once he finishes going over the rules and how to fire a bow, he lets me shoot an arrow. Rather than seeing where I hit, I shout in surprise and pain, my left arm jerking as I jump back, though I manage to not drop the bow.

  Mr. Fuller starts laughing as I examine my forearm, which stings.

  "And that's a risk with shooting a bow," he tells me as he hands me what looks like a leather armguard. "Here's a bracer, it'll protect your forearm when you fire."

  "You let me do that on purpose!"

  "I did," he says. "Felt it's a better way of teaching you to wear a bracer than simply telling you. If I didn't tell you, then you'd probably want to not wear it until you got stung."

  There's got to be something he's wrong about today.

  "I guess you're right…"

  He shows me how to fix on the bracer, then I return to shooting the target. My first shot hit the target, but near the outer rings. By the time I finish shooting the full dozen he's letting me, I'm able to hit in the center circle most of the time. This really takes people a lot of practice?

  Many activities I do actually require some practice, but I don't get how aiming a gun or a bow takes too much.

  With all twelve arrows shot, Mr. Fuller leads me over to the target to pull them out.

  "Don't just grab and pull," he says as I reach for an arrow. "There's a right way and a wrong way to retrieve your arrows from a target."

  "There is?"

  "There is," he confirms. "You do it wrong, and you can warp the shafts. A warped shaft won't fly right. Place one hand on the target like this," he puts a hand on the target beside one of the arrows, thumb underneath the arrow and index finger beside it. "This helps you brace and guide. Then, grip the shaft with your other hand as close to the target as you can and pull straight back. Don't jerk and force it out. The arrow should pull without too much issue. If it resists, you can wiggle it a little, but try not to unless necessary."

  Mr. Fuller pulls the arrow out, then lets me pull the rest out, watching to make sure I do it correctly. We then return to the table and he lets me shoot again. After I've gone through a dozen arrows four times, we pack everything up and head back to the car.

  Brooks and Jack are still at the stand by the road when we reach it, and Mr. Fuller stops the car and gets out. I follow him over to the table, where Brooks is still sulking.

  "Hi!" I greet them. "Thanks for letting us use your range, Jack!"

  "You're welcome," he says. "How'd you do?"

  "Pretty good!" I answer. "Mr. Fuller says I still need more practice, but I should be able to go hunting with him and Hunter next weekend."

  "You still need to pass the course," Mr. Fuller tells me. "Don't forget about that. You'll need to go through it and pass the test."

  "Well, yeah," I nod. "That, too. Brooks! Did you decide?"

  "I'm not giving you my number," he huffs.

  "Alright!" I say. "If you change your mind, my friends and I'll probably be at the park most of the day Tuesday, until about two or three. Some of our school friends are planning on being there and we want to play flag football for a bit. That's not the only thing we'll play, though."

  Brooks just huffs again.

  "Thanks, Jack," Mr. Fuller says. "S.G. seemed to enjoy it, and he did pretty good. Kid picks up skills pretty easily."

  "Aiming a gun or a bow isn't that hard."

  Brooks scoffs. At least it's not a huff!

  "Can I buy a watermelon?" I ask Jack. "My friends and I'll eat it in like, tomorrow."

  They're fairly big, but they're watermelons. We rarely have any leftover after a day or so no matter how big they are.

  "They're five bucks apiece," he tells me. "Most of them weigh about twenty-five pounds."

  I pull out my wallet and hand him $5, then pick out the biggest watermelon I can find in the crates.

  "This one!"

  "Will the five of you really eat that in one day?" Mr. Fuller asks.

  "Probably two days," I answer. "And it's just the four of us. Xander doesn't like watermelon. We're also not entirely sure if he'll be hanging out with us tomorrow or not. It's always a mystery, and I think he's got the group chat muted until he knows we're back. He hasn't responded at all since we left for vacation last Sunday."

  Speaking of that… I tuck the watermelon under one arm and pull out my phone, then quickly send Xander a message directly rather than through the group chat.

  [Sig]: Don't know if you know, but we're back! So if you've got the chat muted, you can unmute! We're done posting a million pictures!

  [Xander]: I unmuted it when I got back home today. Am practicing leatherworking. Takes lot of practice.

  The "Xander is typing…" message came pretty fast, and about thirty seconds after he sends it, he sends a picture of a half-made pouch. At least, I'm assuming it's a pouch as there are a few other attempts on the table. There are also some bracelets, and… all of the leather has a pink tint to it. Is he practicing leatherworking with mindwave cattle leather?

  That stuff's expensive… but I guess when you literally invent the hoverboard, you can afford stuff like that. Well, there's also the possibility that Xander got it as a trade for some of the stuff from the hunting trip yesterday… and he said he got back today?

  That means he spent the night there last night as well.

  [Sig]: Those look cool!

  [Sig]: You got back home today?

  [Xander]: Yeah. I stayed the night at Carter's last night and helped with the chickens this morning. Then I visited his church because Trenton wanted to check it out, then stayed for dinner and dessert. And now I'm at the workshop.

  [Sig]: I'll let you get back to it! Good luck!

  [Sig]: Oh! I don't know if you saw in the group chat, but we're all meeting up at my place for lunch tomorrow! Aunt Rachel said I can grill!

  [Xander]: I might come. I don't know.

  I really want to know what he thought of having to help with chores in the morning, but that can wait until the next time we see each other. The chickens at the Martinses' ranch are fine for people to help with as long as one of the Martinses lets them in. I had to help with that every time I stayed there as that apparently comes with staying the night on a ranch. At least, helping with the morning chores does.

  "Yeah, he might not come tomorrow," I tell Mr. Fuller as I pocket my phone. "He apparently spent the entire day yesterday hanging out with people so he probably needs a couple of days to rest. Oh! How much are the jams and stuff? Xander likes fruity stuff so he might like 'em."

  "This Xander you're mentioning," Jack says. "Is he a small, skinny, blond kid who dyes his hair brown?"

  Sounds like he knows him.

  "Might have a one-eyed teddy bear in his arms?" I ask.

  "That's him!" Jack says.

  "Wooow, you haven't seen him in awhile," I say. "Xander hasn't dyed his hair in awhile, and he's eaten a lot more and has been doing fitness stuff. He's gained weight and even has six-pack now! But you know him?"

  "Glad to hear he's doing well," Jack smiles. "He occasionally pops into the farmers' market, but none of us have seen him since school let out and started wondering if something happened to him."

  The dads let us know recently that even if Xander himself will openly say he's a foster kid, we shouldn't just tell people. That's true even if we meet someone who knows him and has been worried about him.

  "You said you sell at the Lakeview farmers' market, right?" I ask. "Xander probably went there when wandering around Hidden River, but he moved to Dragon Falls at the start of summer. He's done a lot of adjusting and stuff, and it might take him awhile to get over that way so he probably doesn't go right now."

  Even if Xander hates breaking routine, we've learned that he's not done some of the stuff he did while at the boys' home. Mr. Richardson said that Xander might still be hesitant to ask Mr. Caldwell for each new activity or other thing that he's used to from his time at the boys' home.

  "He didn't show up very often previously," Jack tells me. "Maybe once every month or so, though from years past, we know that he usually had some money to spend every two or three months."

  Two or three months? Xander got a weekly allowance at the boys' home. He never told us how much he earned, he just confirmed he got one when we asked. I guess it wasn't enough for something like this.

  "Did he buy from you?" I ask. "I wanted to get jam he'll like."

  "He likes the berry jam," Jack tells me. "He also likes my apple butter and apple cider."

  The fact that Xander likes the berry jam doesn't surprise me, but him liking apple cider does. I'm not sure what apple butter is, though.

  "Alright," I say. "Can I buy one of each? Oh, I should probably put the watermelon in the car first."

  I put the watermelon in the car, then buy the stuff for Xander, and also a jar of the jam and apple butter for me. Jack also sells plum butter and I want to give that a try, so I buy a jar of it as well. Once that's done, Jack gives Mr. Fuller a box, which contains two bottles of watermelon wine, some hard cider, and some jars of his other stuff. There's also a free watermelon for Mr. Fuller, too.

  "You got free stuff?" I ask once we're in the car and on our way back.

  "It can happen among friends," he tells me. "He knows he'll get some stuff from me another time. I know it hasn't been long, but let's review the safety rules you were given as we head back."

  I was hoping we could avoid more "lessons" on the way back, since the entire way here was a discussion of rules and then there were more rules given here. Rules for different things, but still rules.

  "Awww!"

  "It won't take too long," Mr. Fuller chuckles. "And I'll be quizzing you each time I take you shooting, S.G., to make sure you remember everything. First question: if your gun is unloaded and you've confirmed there are no bullets in it, where can you aim it?"